


Shakin’ Up

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-03
Updated: 2009-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 22:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/288811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a problem with the routine their life has become and decides to do something about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shakin’ Up

**Author's Note:**

> 30 NaNo Shots 2009 - Prompt: Routine

The day Dean nearly drove the Impala off a bridge Sam had started off asleep against the passenger side door. It was one of those moments where in the blink of an eye he was straightening in his seat, shoulders tensing, eyes widening as they careened toward the railing at blinding speed and Sam could see the tiny river at the bottom of the canyon, could sparks flash from the edge of the car dragging along the metal barrier, could see his fucking life pass before his eyes because he was fairly certain it was ten seconds from ending.

In one instance he was reduced to an incapable mess, yelling out his brother’s name, scrambling across the seat and away from his inevitable death. Then Dean was turning back to the road, car shifting and straightening between the lines, and Sam couldn’t help the way his jaw fell open as he stared at him. “What the _fuck_ Dean?”

His brother’s shoulder shifted up in a shrug and his jaw clenched. “Just felt like shakin’ up the routine.”

If Sam wasn’t so worried that Dean would have pulled over and chucked him off the bridge himself, he might have slid across the seat to check his forehead temperature. Instead he let his hand drop down on the lock, pushing it down and slowly settling back in his seat, eyes warily sliding over to Dean as the miles rolled by silently.

-=-=-=-

The day Dean punched the six foot two, at least three hundred pound biker in the bar Sam was waiting for their beers with a hip resting against the hard wood of the bar counter. It came out of no where. One second Dean was walking by the guy and the next his fist was connecting hard enough with flesh and bone that Sam could practically hear it from where he stood.

A ripple of shock seemed to send the scattering of people into an abrupt silence, eyes wide as they looked around for some explanation to this utter madness. Sam, fortunately, had the added benefit of being adjusted to recovering from shock faster then average person. In the next instant he was across the room, curling his fingers in the back of Dean’s leather coat and dragging him out of the bar.

It wasn’t until after the bar had vanished in their rearview mirror and Sam was confident that they weren’t being followed that he turned to his brother with wide eyes, “Dean… what was that?”

The smallest of smirks quirked up the corner of Dean’s lips as his jaw clenched and his fingers curled tight enough around the steering wheel they turned white, “Just felt like shakin’ up the routine.”

Sam decided he needed to figure out what this routine was and get them out of it before Dean ended up killing them.

-=-=-=-

The following series of events shook Sam so bad the equilibrium of his life was forever altered. Dean stood along the edge of the road and at the last minute ran across the street, ten seconds before a semi flew by, horn blaring. Sam had one horrible moment where he’d thought Dean had been hit and the way his heart skipped three beats had him doubling, panting heavily with shock. When Dean stated his line about routines, Sam had to dig blunt nails into his palms to keep from punching him.

A few days later Sam was walking out of the motel room when Dean suddenly appeared out of nowhere in front of him. Coffee sloshed out of his cup and burned across his chest as he pulled in a shocked breath. Dean had actually just dropped from the roof the building, waiting for his brother to appear. Sam is about five seconds from strangling Dean, especially when he fired off his routine line and simply walked away.

In quick succession there was the time Dean jumped off an at least ten foot cliff into a river without knowing how deep it was. Then the time he purposefully taunted a possessed man until Sam had to step in and pin his body to the floor to keep the demon from squeezing the life out of his brother’s throat.

Then the time Sam woke in the middle of the night to find Dean staring down at him with wide eyes. Sam could feel the heat of his body along the full length of his flesh. He whispered his name in slow confusion and received a quiet, “Routine,” before lips ghosted across his in the barest of kisses and then Dean was gone.

Sam spent the rest of the night awake, staring at the ceiling and wondering if the routine was something he _could_ change.

-=-=-=-

In the middle of January – at a random hotel in Minnesota – Sam was lounging on the bed when Dean burst out of the bathroom in a wave of steam. In a flash he was across the room and out the door. Sam noticed things in slow motion. One, he was naked. Two, there was around five feet of snow piled along the sidewalks. Three, something was seriously wrong.

“Dean!” Sam clambered off the bed, fingers tugging around the blanket on the bed even as he stumbled toward the still open motel door.

His brother was pushing out of one of the piles of snow that he’d clearly just fallen into. Silently, he brushed past Sam and headed directly for his duffel bag. Sam can see the shake of his shoulder, the only hint that he might be colder then he was letting on. “Just felt like shakin-“

In a flash Sam crossed to him, fingers curling in his arm and shoving him round. Dean’s face morphed into a moment of shock before Sam has him up against the wall. This time Sam is aware of a new selection of completely different things. One, the taste of beer still lingered on Dean’s tongue. Two, the sound of Dean’s moan traveled straight to his cock and filled it with life. But Dean was still naked, that was the same, and Sam could feel how cold his skin was.

“Sam,” Dean gasped as Sam pulled back, not stepping away, letting his lips slide along Dean’s cool neck.

“Just felt like shakin’ up the routine,” Sam whispered, lips quirking up in a smile before slanting together once more.  



End file.
